Behind Those Eyes
by spittingllama7856
Summary: Remnants of possession will always leave its mark, it's how one decides to use it is where the power truly lies: It can either control, or be controlled. Note: possession and dark themes


_House: Hufflepuff_

 _Position: Prefect 1_

 _Category: Themed_

 _Prompt: [Colour] Green_

 _Word count: 3423_

 _Notes: Dark Ginny; Possessed Ginny; Drugged Harry_

 _A/N: I'm sending hugs Aya's way right now._

~xXx~

 _August 11th, 1992_

Ginny Weasley was never really fond of the color green. Maybe it was because she was surrounded by it whenever she looked out the windows of the Burrow where the luscious green grass would contrast harshly against the darker greens of the woods in the distance. Perhaps it was because it was the token color of envy - something that she often felt as the years passed on. Green was also associated with sickness and had some really unpleasant-looking shades to reflect this. She honestly didn't really know, she just knew that she never found the color really appealing.

Nevermind that the boy she met when she was only ten years old at the train station - while sending yet another brother off to school - would would have a beautiful shade of emerald green eyes and dark, raven hair. It didn't matter that she remembered the color green also represented balance, compassion, and growth. She supposed that the emerald gem was pleasing to the eye and was considered a power jewel for healing and a representation of heart.

What she found most fascinating was who that pair of eyes belonged to was none other than Harry Potter.

A crush was usually something most people experienced at a young age, but more often than not it would pass after a time when the original interest in the person subsided once they got to know their crush. But who could not find the attraction to someone who defeated a Dark Lord as a baby? Who could not find the appeal in the fact that they survived the deadly curse with only a small scar on his head as evidence?

Ginny wasn't sure of those things at the time, all she knew was she liked how humbled he was, how curiously fascinated with something she saw everyday. Magic was a powerful substance Harry only just learned about, and he was bound to learn how to harness it to its full potential as many expected.

Little did Ginny know just how powerful magic could really get until it was time for her to start first year. They had gone shopping for her school supplies, many things were hand-me-downs like everyone's before her. She wasn't even special enough to get new robes because this year's book list was just so long, and buying twenty sets of the same books was not going to be an easy feat. She wasn't really expecting any presents because of it, or at least nothing from a store.

They were back home just after lunch, and Ginny was rather giddy from the day as she looked over her lovely, but simple, yew wand. Recalling the amazing feeling she felt as soon as the tips of her fingers brushed over the wood. The surge of magic as her signature bonded to the wand was nothing she'd ever felt before. It was almost intoxicating to know such power flowed through her.

Her brothers were kind enough to give her a few gifts - to which she greatly appreciated every single one of them. Percy gave her a quill and ink set, Ron got her a lovely long gold hair ribbon about an inch and a half thick - which was just the perfect size and thickness to weave into a braid or make a lovely bow in her hair. Even Harry Potter got her something while they were out shopping!

"Happy Birthday, Ginny. I hope you like it." Harry smiled kindly as he placed a small, square box in her hands.

Ginny lost the _thank you_ in her gasping squeak when his fingers touched her hand. She really hoped she didn't blush in embarrassment as she could only muster a smile before admiring the blue box briefly before running off.

The twins gift touched her most of all, as it was something they made very special just for her. But it was the secondary, almost symbolic, present that she most appreciated.

"We call it a trick box. It is designed to only open with your magical signature," Fred explained as Ginny unwrapped the intricately carved wooden box.

"And it will give a nasty little bite to whoever tries to tamper with it," George finished. "Nothing too serious, though. But enough to have someone want to leave it alone."

"Really? How did you manage to pull off that sort of tricky magic?" Though she sounded snooty, Ginny was truly awed by such a great idea they gave her.

It was a gift to offer a sense of privacy, something she rarely experienced even though she did in fact have her own room. The nature of the Burrow was simply always crowded, and privacy was virtually non-existent.

"Well, it certainly wasn't easy."

"Or pain free," George added, mock picking at something on his hand. "I think I still have splinters from the prototype blowing up."

"Give it a try, then."

This was not something Ginny wanted to hear as she placed her hands over her hand carved name on the top. She felt a warmth tickle against her skin like it did when her wand chose her. The charmed wood was reading her signature, her very fibers, and the box suddenly opened elegantly like a flower at the approval of her touch. An empty space was hidden inside, just big enough to store a few treasured items of hers.

"This is amazing, you guys! Thanks!"

All of the blowing up that was mentioned fled from her mind as she gave her twin brother's each appreciative hugs in thanks. This box would prove to be quite useful to keep nosy peers - and brothers - out of her things.

Ginny decided to collect her books back into her cauldron and take them to her room to pack in her trunk when she noticed a strange black book she didn't recognize. It looked like a diary, and when she flipped through the blank parchment pages and flipped it to the back, she allowed a finger to run over the gold engraved name at the bottom. It was strange for her mother to buy a blank book that looked far nicer than her used school books beside it, but she shrugged it off and placed it in the cauldron.

"Thanks for the book, Mum. It is a bit weird, though," Ginny said to a distracted Molly.

She turned to her only daughter and gave her a warm hug and a kiss on the top of her head. "You're welcome, dear. Happy Birthday."

"Of course they're weird, Ginny," Ron cut in soon after, "They're school books! Nothings supposed to be fun from those."

Once she was alone in the safety of her room did she take a proper look at the blue box Harry gave her. Opening it caused her cheeks to flush a little as it revealed a glass-shaped unicorn that stood on its hind legs that she placed in her palm to look at, the writing on the inside of the lid said it played a song when the back was pet, so Ginny gave it a try. The tune that sang from it was quite lovely, but she wasn't sure of it's tune. She carefully placed it on her nightstand and picked up the black book to flip it open next.

Thankfully, no one wrote anything in it because that'd be strange to buy someone's else's written secrets they'd entrusted in a diary that was then sold to a stranger. At least, she assumed that it was used, however, because of the boys name embossed with gold on the back. Apparently he did not find it useful enough to bother using it and donated it to the secondhand bookshop.

The quality was far better than her old diary, that was for sure, so she happily decided to use it in its place. Though she would never leave either of them lying about, Ginny knew better already that if anything was left unattended it was fair game. It was just how things worked in the Weasley home filled with males.

Pulling out her new _ish_ quill and ink from Percy, she opened it to the first page and quickly filled it with the days thoughts.

' _Dear Diary,_

 _Today is my eleventh birthday, and I couldn't be more excited to attend school in a couple short weeks. We went shopping for our things early this morning, which I didn't really mind because I was able to get my wand and (very shyly) admire Harry Potter from afar the entire time! I even stood up to this nasty kid who was mocking him, which was the first time I think I've said anything in front of him, now that I think about it. I mean, it wasn't too him, just in front of him, so I think that's an improvement?_

 _My brothers ended up bringing him to my house about a week ago, but I can't work up the nerve to say anything to him. All that comes out are weird little squeaks like I swallowed a mouse. I don't know why I feel so strange when I see him, his eyes are just so beautiful and it is like all the air is sucked out of me. That's saying a lot because I am not particularly fond of the color green. I just can't help it, they are so … bright and green, a window into his kind soul._

 _And he gave me a present! I swear I almost fainted at such a kind gesture. He didn't have to do that, right? He barely knows me..._

 _Of course my horrible brothers say that "their little sister has an ickle crush on the famous Harry." Naturally, that does not make any of it better at all! Crush, ha!'_

Ginny paused a moment to think, but before she could process what else to write, she watched in amazement as the freshly written words were completely absorbed into the page. Her eyes widened even more when words reappeared in a beautiful cursive handwriting back.

' _Hello. Happy Eleventh Birthday. Today is truly a special day for you and I am happy to see you were able to make the most of it in obtaining your wand. My name is Tom Riddle. May I ask what your name is?'_

She was unsure if she should write her name in a diary that wrote back to her. It was certainly not something out of the ordinary, she knew that much for certain. Ginny didn't want to feel rude not replying, so she simply wrote below in her less-than-immaculate writing:

' _Thank you.'_

She paused and watched the ink sink into the parchment, but nothing appeared.

"Ginny! It's time for supper!" her mother hollered from the base of the stairs.

"Coming!"

Closing the diary quickly, Ginny took it and her old diary from between her mattresses and placed them in the new trickbox before leaving her room. She looked forward to dessert. Her mother always made her favorite cake.

~xXx~

Possession was not something anyone should trifle with, especially at an impressionable age of only eleven years old. Ginny's magic had early signs of being powerful since her first magic sprung from her at only three years old. She always received high praise when spellwork was practiced in her subjects at school, bullies knew not to mess with her without facing the wrath of her Bat-Bogey Hex cast upon them.

But being infected by some of the darkest, most powerful magic even the Headmaster admitted to not seeing in person take over one's very being like a parasite was not something that would just go away. His magic from the journal only enhanced her own, he taught her things that the school would never dare teach a first year student. He made her feel so special by seeing the potential in her skills, and He made sure to always tell her how special that made her.

The gift of magic as strong and powerful like hers was not something she should limit with simple teachings the school provided, though it was always backed by saying that it helped her learn how to control it and handle it, He always promised to help her truly learn how to harness her powerful gift.

He had left His mark under her skin, her mind, her very _soul_. And it changed her in ways no one seemed to see on the outside. There was a shadow that blotted out a part of Ginny's mind, and when she found herself edge near that inky darkness, she'd feel like she had lost control all over again.

But the Healers assured her and her family that there would be no lasting effects of the possession she endured for almost an entire year. This brought a great relief to everyone around her, but only Ginny truly knew herself, and this was not how she remembered feeling before that book came into her life.

She remembered she loathed the color green, but loved it at the same time. The girlish admiration for Harry developed into something far more sinister, far more obsessive, far more infatuated for him. Being so close around him during school and large parts of the summers kept the strange thoughts and urges at bay, so it went mostly unnoticed by Ginny. When Harry finally showed that he returned feelings for her, the witch was over the moon. She would be allowed to stare at those eyes for as long as she wanted, to touch his hand with hers and feel her skin set aflame. To steal a kiss from those sweet, wind-chapped lips.

But when he abandoned her during the throes of war was when things really changed for Ginny. She felt cold, empty, almost spiteful at the idea that Harry could just leave her behind and in constant danger. When the war finally ended, she remembered again why she hated the color green. It was the color of Killing Curse, it was the color of sickness, it was the color of envy and jealousy. But green was also the color of compassion, the color of balance, the color of heart. The color of his emerald green eyes that enchanted her but now infuriated her.

Ginny couldn't figure out why she still yearned to look at them, the feelings they now stirred in her were like fire and ice all at once. A burning passion that clashed with icy hatred. That inky darkness that blotted the corner of her mind pulsed during these times, as if it fed these emotions just to confuse her. It leaked into her person, it sent her power into overdrive, a power she hadn't felt since that fateful day she met Tom Riddle in the diary.

What she knew for certain was she couldn't live without Harry, no matter how much those green eyes drove her mad to look at. If she couldn't have him, no one would ever be able to, so she made absolutely sure that he stayed _hers._

She laughed at something Hermione had said before taking a sip of some alcoholic beverage she had in hand. It was her bachelorette party, and some of her close friends insisted they take her out for a quiet little celebration. For some reason Hermione decided to talk about some childhood clumsy acts Ginny performed around Harry during the early years of her school life. The drunk witch didn't mean any harm by it, but it triggered the itch under her skin regardless.

"And then, and then I believe you spilt pumpkin juice all over the table once when Harry sat down beside you one morning. It got everywhere!" Hermione reminisced between her giggle fit.

Luna was more humble about reminiscing less embarrassing things. She always seemed to be more in tuned with Ginny's body language and emotions than Hermione. Perhaps it was the age difference.

"I personally loved the dress you wore to the Yule Ball, Ginny. I'm sure it will pale in comparison to your wedding gown, however," Luna hummed out, offering a warm smile to her friend.

Hermione sipped at her drink as she glanced around the bar. "Mm! Ginny I think you have an admirer."

Ginny carefully eyed the general area Hermione nudged her head at. It only took a moment for her to catch the tall fellow leaning on the counter that had poor lighting over it. She swallowed hard as her skin started to bristle when their eyes met. He had a familiar, terrifying air about him that made her feel sick to her stomach.

He looked just like _Him._

"I… I need to go, I think. Drank too much." Ginny rushed out while gathering her bag and cloak.

Standing too quickly madehad her head swim, but that inky darkness reared its ugly head again. That spot of blackness that agitated her emotions and sent her magic through bouts of power-charged episodes that could be very useful to make quick work of a dirty home, or completely level woodlands she'd Apparate to to unleash the buildup of rage infused energy.

"Yeah, I think you should have been cut off two drinks ago," Hermione chuckled as she grabbed her things and swayed by her seat.

"Speak for yourself, missy." Ginny playfully stuck her tongue out at her friend.

She freed Luna's bag that got snagged on a chair before the three left. Stealing a final glance at the stranger lingering in the far corner was not a wise idea, he had moved closer to the opposite end this time. The light showed his dark, neat hair, the secretive smile that curved at thin lips. The paleness of his skin reflecting the light off him as if he were an angel. Ginny involuntarily shivered when she thought she heard a distant whisper in her mind.

' _The potion. Do not forget the potion.'_

Ginny returned to Grimmauld Place as quiet as she could, unsure if Harry had returned home before her or not. Once she was satisfied that she was alone, she ascended the stairs and pulled the trickbox from the back corner of her closet and opened it with glee. Pulling the potion bottle from its hidden depths, Ginny quickly eyed the vibrant green contents and calculated how many doses she had left.

Love potions became illegal once Hermione got her hands on the ministry during its reform, and this love potion was even more illegal than the run of the mill ones. The poisonous green it turned was only its first warning sign, its dosage needed to be even more calculated and precise. Tom had once talked about this potions and its many effects. Unlike the sickeningly strange behavior most of its kind inflicted upon its victim, this one was virtually untraceable, but still produced the desired outcome.

Though it was extremely tricky to create and even trickier to slip to the victim, Ginny had learned and mastered the art of deception for years now. Practice only improved her hand at the potions steps, and she had managed to collect an abundance of ingredients to keep up the facade for years to come. The need to keep Harry by her in order to continue to tap into her powerful gift was addicting, but she remembered a the young man that once took over body and tainted her mind, she remembered his words as clear as day. She was destined to be _powerful_ , she just needed to find that _key._

She'd have to create more soon, but the effects were more effective if she produced it during one of her surges, which meant she would have to _agitate_ the black entity that scarred her mind in order to do it. The need to tap into such uncontrollable power always left her frightened and shaken when she blacked out. Harry always concluded they were terrors - remnants of war that came without warning. Let him believe what he wanted, it didn't matter so long as he _didn't leave._

He was the forbidden key to Tom Riddle's lock. He always spoke of Harry that way; a tool, a key, the connection to limitless power. He just needed to know how to harness it. Though this person was long dead, somehow he left behind just a little bit of his power, just a little bit of himself in that inky darkness that leeched in Ginny's mind.

The mixed emotions she felt from looking at those green eyes were not only hers, they never were.


End file.
